


Americana

by ReachForTheStars



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: Cannibalism, Distant Past, Past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 09:22:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18178802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReachForTheStars/pseuds/ReachForTheStars
Summary: This is an excerpt of an old, yellowed journal that the Lone Wanderer found.





	Americana

October 26, 2077: It's snowing for the first time, only October, and south of DC! The dust in the air blocks the Sun. I already know the winter will be long and cold and dark. I'm afraid, not for me, but for my beautiful wife and son. Whenever I watch Sam play, I'm reminded how precious he is, and feel I'll do anything to keep him safe.  I don't know how I'll feed them this winter, and a man who can't feed his family - and even if we survive, eating rats or God-knows-what, what kind of world will he grow up in? He'll never get to go to high school, never try out for the team, never take his best girl to prom, never have a clean house and nice car and green lawn. Instead, he'll...end up running from cannibals, for all I know. Everything's gone. Some days, when I watch him play, instead I just want to blow my brains out.  
No. I have to be strong. For my family.  
  
October 27: A few more stragglers from DC came through today. They staggered through the storm. I got Sam and Mary down to the cellar, barred the door, and covered the windows. I thought of helping them, now that there were less, but family comes first. Any chance they would hurt Mary and Sam, I couldn't take that chance. They vanished into the snow, heading south.  
Mary's worried about radiation. We aren't far from where the bombs hit in DC, though Uncle Sam's missile defense nailed enough of them high up that the radiation's spread all over, but it probably saved us being blown up. God bless the USA, and I hope the godless Reds who did this to us are burning in hell. Mary says maybe we should leave, like everyone else, even the Johnsons. But, by God, I didn't put in twelve years in that meatpacking plant to pay the mortgage on this place just to abandon it. It's our home. If we leave that behind, what'll we have left?  
  
October 28: The snow's four inches deep now, and more's falling. I can still walk through it to find food, but I don't know about when it gets deeper. I've spent my whole life in Virginia - wish my brother up in Wisconsin was here now, he'd know what to do. The snow's color looks wrong, too - more gray than white. Mary says at least that means the dust is coming out of the air, so maybe we'll be able to grow food in the spring. I nodded, but I don't see how, if the radiation dust's in the ground. I don't know what we'll do, but I have to think of something.  
  
October 29: I can't stop thinking about our country's future. I know that's a foolish thing to think of now, but I'm worried about Sam. What if the commie liberal hippies take over America, and force him to worship Lenin? I have to do something. Keep democracy going? Every patriotic American's got a civic duty to vote.  
Election Day is next week. But who's there to vote for?  
  
October 30: Sam asked me about Halloween today. He sounded like he knew, deep down, there wouldn't be any. But I couldn't just crush that hope, that longing for the tradition, that made him ask. I told him we'd have Halloween.  
The American way made us the greatest country in the world. We must preserve it, any way we can.  
  
October 31: I set off north while it was still dark yesterday morning, using a flashlight. It was a long way through the snow and cold, but I just kept putting one foot in front of the other. The snow had settled a little, and I didn't sink in too much. The Geiger ticked a little faster than usual, but not enough to stop me. I got all the way to Springvale, and started searching houses. Most of them had been cleaned out, and there were starving dogs growling - kept a firm grip on my rifle. But sure enough, one house right across from the old school had bags full of Halloween candy tucked away in the kitchen cupboards. It was a sturdy building, and I thought on the way back, maybe someday someone else would seek refuge there.  
Today, I told Sam, when the Sun started to set, to get his costume on. He jumped around with joy, and it took me a while to get it on him. He was a "very scary" vampire. Then off we went around the neighborhood, and he picked up the candy I'd placed carefully on the step of each abandoned house. Even with no one to hear, he yelled "thank you!" at each house, just like I'd told him. He didn't seem to mind the cold, he started shivering a few houses from the end of the street, but he was tough enough to finish the job before heading back. I know now I've raised him right.  
He was so happy. He ate a bunch of chocolate and then crashed into bed. Mary complained that he could have been pointlessly taking rads out there, but she agreed I'd done the right thing when she saw him sound asleep, smile still on his face.  
  
November 2: It seems foolish, but I did it. I walked all the way up to Springvale again, and the elementary school, where our polling place's been for the last 10 years. There was nobody there, just some more feral dogs that ran off.  
I would've printed a ballot, but the terminals wouldn't work. So I wrote it down, neat as I could on lined paper, BALLOT. If old Mrs. Crabb had seen it, she'd have given me an A in penmanship. Then I found a desk, for a ballot box. I figured the governor was probably dead so this was a special election, but I didn't know what to write for a candidate. I didn't think it proper to write myself, and Mary's a wonderful wife but women just aren't fit for politics, and I didn't know one other soul who was still alive in the whole Commonwealth of Virginia, so in the end I just wrote "GOP" in big letters, and dropped my ballot in the desk.  
I did find some Dandy Boys on the way back. Sam's still eating his Halloween candy, but he'll like these when he's done.  
I came back late, shivering with the chill. I had to explain to Mary what I'd done, and I think I did a darn fine job. At least, she started angry, but by the end she was saying she wanted to go with me next time. Maybe we can keep the tradition going. I hope so.  
  
November 3: Back to work, which is now simple: feed my family. Mary said she should help me with the scavenging, but I told her no - this is men's work, requires strength. Besides, she has enough to do keeping the house warm and clean, and cooking  the food I bring. It got cold fast after the bombs, so there's a fair bit of meat that's still safe. Trouble is, when I bring a whole chicken or roast back, we can't keep it inside without it spoiling, and Mary won't let me leave it outside - the feral dogs. So we have to eat lots and lots of meat. Sam might be getting sick of it, but this diet's grown on me. We'd never get this much in the old days, what with the war effort, and Mary and I enjoy it. I brought back a big ham today.  
  
November 5: Still eating that ham. I'll need to make sure Sam takes vitamins, or he'll have scurvy before winter's over.  
  
November 6: Well, we couldn't leave now, even if we wanted to. Snow's been falling heavy all night, there's over a foot now.  
  
November 7: Snow's stopped. Last night was clear, and the thermometer was down to ten above when I woke up near sunrise. The dust must stop the heat coming in but not getting out. Sam came in the night saying he was freezing, so I let him sleep with us. The extra warmth helped a bit, but Mary's afraid I'll roll over on & hurt him if we keep that up, so I scavenged more clothes and such from the other houses for Sam to use as blankets, plus a hot water bottle we can heat by the fire.  
  
November 11: Ham's gone. Snowed again, almost a foot and a half piled on the ground now. God, this is only November. How will we survive this?  
  
November 12: Thermometer got back up to twenty-five during the afternoon, and out I went. The snow was hard to push through. Find or make snowshoes? No idea how. There's no food left here in Andale, so I'll have to, I'd be lucky to make 1/2 mile an hour trying to push through.  
  
November 13: How the hell do you make snowshoes?  
  
November 17: Finally have something that sort of works. Sam ate the last of the food this morning. I've got to find something.  
  
November 18: I did what had to be done. Set off south this morning, hoping to find a farmhouse with something to eat. Clear and cold - even walking didn't really warm me up, thermometer said ten degrees when I left. I found two farms - both burned-out shells, not a scrap of anything edible.  
Well - mostly. As I left the second farm, I heard dogs growling. Turned and saw two dogs fighting over a dead squirrel. Before I could decide what to do, one dog lunged right in and tore the other's throat out. I shouted and raised my rifle, and the "winning" dog ran.  
I hesitated. The dead dog had a bright red collar. Someone had loved it, once. But I knew I had to feed my family. I picked up the dead dog (and then the squirrel) and took it back north with me.  
  
November 20: Sam seems to be OK with the taste of the meat. I haven't told him what it is. I had to tell Mary, and she got hysterical for a while (you know how womenfolk are) but I made her promise she wouldn't tell Sam.   
  
November 21: More snow. More wind. Nothing on the radio.  
  
November 24: Dog's pretty much gone. I'm worried about radiation, but not much I can do. Sam's thinking about it too, but he's hoping he'll grow eyes in the back of his head. Don't think that kind of thing will be common in long run - sure, might keep you alive, but how'll you find a wife when disfigured like that?  
You'd think I'd write more, with all the time I have, but it gives me a headache and I feel like there's no point pretty often.  
  
November 26: Went out again, thermometer at fifteen above; yardstick shows snow almost two feet deep now, but my "snowshoes" are working. American ingenewty wins the day! Followed rabbit tracks for an hour or so, before I found the thing - frozen to death. Meat should still be good, but wasn't much of it.  
Sam doesn't play with his action figures anymore. I asked him why and he said Captain Cosmos had been killed by the bombs. I told him he hadn't, but I don't think he believed me. Breaks my heart.  
  
November 27: Hands still shaking. Went back towards Springvale. Feral dogs charged me just outside the school, I shot two but the other two knocked me over, went for my throat but bit my scarf instead. I bludgeoned them with rifle - one dead, one crippled I had to finish killing with a bullet. They were probably weak from hunger - all four were skin and bones. I brought them back anyway - could only pray storm wouldn't hit again while I was out in the open and it getting dark. Sky was pretty clear. Stars were kinda pretty, but lights and ovens and heat were better.  
I have to be strong for my family.  
  
November 29: All sick. Not sure whether rads, parasites in dog, or what. Can't keep food down. Please God spare us  
  
December 3: We've finally recovered, more or less. The r  
  
[A number of pages are missing here.]  
  
when out of nowhere a gunshot right behind me. I turn and there's some [scribbled out] with a Beretta about 15 feet away. Good for me he didn't know how to use it. One shot to center mass did the trick.  
I searched the body. Nothing but some clothes in even worse shape than mine. He looked to have been starving too. I left him and started back. Fell three times on the way. We're hungry. That Rad-Aways stash don't do any good - not even irradiated food to be found.  
Mary started shouting at me when I came back with nothing. She called me a weak coward and a lot of other things I won't repeat. Then she broke down crying. She's starving. We all are. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do  
  
February 26: Sam was crying because he was hungry. That's what did it. I've told him he needs to be strong like a man. And I knew he was trying, and couldn't. We haven't eaten in days.  
I thought about this all night, and I know it's wrong. But I cannot watch Sam starve. I will not. God will understand. I weep for America.  
I followed my tracks back to the [scribbled out] carcass, with my knives.  
  
February 27: We can't be cannibals, though. I can't let Sam know what this is, or we'll become savages, not Americans. I'm calling it "strange meat". I hope it'll catch on. Maybe we have to change our ways to survive now - but damn it, we're still Americans, and we'll speak of things in the way they should be. We'll remember the way things were, and someday we won't have to resort to this and we'll be able to make America great again.  
But not now. For now, my work is to feed my family.  
But with what? I may have only bought us a reprieve. The snow's still four feet deep, and it's been below zero for weeks now. I cranked the radio again, with the strength to do it from our [scribbles] meal. Nothing. The folks in the school said they've got no food left, and the way they look, I believe them.  
  
February 28: I am not a murderer. I won't be a murderer.  
  
March 1: Those in the school will die before spring. So will we. Unless [almost a whole page scribbled out]  
  
March 2: I have done my work. My family is fed with strange meat. God forgive me.  
  
March 3: All I did was feed my family. It's all anyone could have done. An American's got a right to work to put food on the table. We must be free and brave to survive, now, and only now. Someday we won't have to do this, but now we do. Those people couldn't have kept America alive. They couldn't have kept a nice little house in the wasteland all around us. They were living like animals, so I [scribbles] There's nothing wrong with hunting animals. There's nothing wrong with hunting animals.  
God bless America.  
  
March 4: The color's come back into Sam and Mary's cheeks. I mentioned the caramel thing [no other references to this - some sort of in-joke, most likely] today, and Mary laughed - it's the first time she's done that in weeks. I love her. Maybe in the spring, if there's food, we can have [scribbled out]  
Anyway, the days are much longer again, but the sunlight's still dim. No idea if spring will come, or when. We have enough meat now to last another week or so, but after that?   
Felt a little queasy today, so took another Rad-Away. We've still got plenty of those. I hope the meat isn't making us sick - I read somewhere that ca [scribbled out] people who eat like this get parasites or brain kudzu or something.  
  
March 6: Family is everything. It's the family that made America great, and keeps us going. A mother and father who can raise a kid right are what makes the world work. No pinko BS.  
We need to remember that.  
  
March 9: Still cold. There's not much I can do with Sam. The baseball gear's in the garage, but there's nowhere in this house to throw a ball. I hope spring comes so I can teach him.  
Wussy. We need to be thinking about survival, not baseball. But isn't the American way necesary? We can't become -  
Someday we won't have to hunt like this. That's what it's for.  
  
March 12: More hunting, and more strange m  
I don't feel like writing  
  
March 24: Big events today. A man called Jack Wilson, his wife, and his three daughters came into town today, riding on big snowmobiles. I went out with my rifle to watch them. They took shelter in a house across the street. It's getting warmer again (the top of the snow's starting to melt in the afternoons), so I was thinking I might not need to work on them, with other food sources.  
When I took my eye off for a minute, I saw that the man of the house had slipped out, heading south. I followed his prints in the snow, only to come across another set of prints. These dragged, with small steps, and I thought I might have found material for my work. I followed those tracks...only to realize that Wilson's prints were following them as well. Rifle at the ready for either of them, I trudged on, came over a hill and spotted the ragged man, staggering through the wet snow. I raised my rifle, considering whether enough strange meat could come from this, and fired - an instant after Jack Wilson's.  
A moment later, we had our guns trained on each other. I demanded to know why he'd done that, and, of course, he gave the same question. Then he slipped in the snow, and two or three butcher's knives fell from his coat.  
Long story short, we worked out that we had the same system of work, to feed our families. Turned out he'd been watching us too, and we both had had the idea that, in a few years, our children could use partners. We agreed he could live here, as long as we worked together to feed our respective families.  
I don't know if I can trust him. He says he's the same as me, only hunting animal men. But who [scribbled out]. I'll watch him, but he's right; Sam's going to need a wife someday, and three sisters to pick from is a darn good deal. And two armed men is a lot better than one.  
  
March 25: This is the beginning of something that I think will last. We can build a community that keeps America alive, right here, in Andale...


End file.
